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Over time, the emotional weight of the situation grew heavier. I worked long hours, often starting before dawn, while trying to maintain a sense of balance at home. Meanwhile, Brent lived without the same sense of urgency, and the difference in our responsibilities created tension. What I had once seen as an act of care slowly began to feel one-sided. I had believed that my support would at least be met with appreciation and respect, but instead, it often felt overlooked. Still, I continued, telling myself that helping family required patience and understanding, even when it was difficult.
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